<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>we exist we exist we exist by ComaGayby</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29082927">we exist we exist we exist</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComaGayby/pseuds/ComaGayby'>ComaGayby</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Life Is Strange (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Feels, F/F, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Save Chloe Price Ending, Psychological Trauma, bittersweet vibes, this is technically one of the fluffier things i've written which is absolutely wild</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:02:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,868</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29082927</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComaGayby/pseuds/ComaGayby</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>you're probably going to carry the trauma and regret for the rest of your life, but you're alive and you're in love and maybe that's enough.</p><p>in which Max and Chloe are learning to live with themselves.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Maxine "Max" Caulfield/Chloe Price</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>we exist we exist we exist</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Max's muffled cries tear you from slumber, but your own nightmares really weren't anything to miss. Especially when hers are so much worse. </p><p>You pull off running-on-fumes so well, anyway.</p><p>Consoling her comes so naturally to you now, and the palm squeezes and shoulder rubs and whispered reassurances all feel so mundane. </p><p>they still work, though</p><p>thank fucking god </p><p>She chokes out almost-incomprehensible apologies, and you stroke her cheeks and remind her that you're not bothered by her. </p><p>you could never be </p><p>You hold her close and whisper affirmations and, slowly but steadily, she calms. You suppose your mushiness always reads as genuine to her. Even if you say the same things every night.</p><p>Your words <em>are</em> genuine. Always. In that regard you're just as unapologetically Chloe as you've ever been. She really brings your saccharine side out, though. </p><p>As she stills, she squeezes your hand and takes a shuddering breath. </p><p>"Chloe?" </p><p>Fuck, she's so precious. </p><p>"Yeah?" you whisper back.</p><p>"Do you wish I had let you die?" </p><p>
  <em>shit</em>
</p><p>"Baby..." </p><p>you don't know. you really fucking don't. </p><p>you do know you don't want to hurt her </p><p>You pull her as close as you physically can. She's trembling. </p><p>scared you'll say the thing she's so afraid of </p><p>"Honestly? I don't know." </p><p>she sniffles, and your throat constricts </p><p>"<em>But</em>. But. It doesn't fucking matter. Seriously. It's water under the bridge and you can't beat yourself up just because I'm still depressed." </p><p>You pause and give her a quick kiss above the neck. </p><p>She's gripping onto your hands like you're about to drop her. </p><p>"Look. I've been dealing with mental bullshit forever, okay? And I know you hate it when I say this, but really, I'm used to it. Loss and shit. Difference is, I have you now, and I love you so fucking much, and.. and I'm fine. Really." </p><p>You know your insecurities disagree, but you mean it. You would never lie to her. </p><p>She says "I love you" back but still tenses.</p><p>The pause is unbearable.</p><p>and then it's punctured by her agonized squeal.</p><p>"Chloe.. you're <em>so</em> not okay! Because of <em>me</em>!" </p><p>She's trembling again. You sit up, and gently touch her shoulder. You want to see her eyes. </p><p>Instead she turns and buries her face in your chest. Close enough.</p><p>You make sure to lift the blanket up with her. Being bundled up with you seems to calm her breathing, at least a little bit..</p><p>"Max. Baby. No... it was never your choice. Not really. I <em>let</em> our fucking town get leveled. I had to consent to that, and I did. I let my fucking mom die, and I'm not okay, and you know I'm not because you have to talk me out of it like every fucking night, but.. I'm fine. Ugh, that doesn't make sense. I'm not okay, not in the way I <em>should</em> be, but that's not a dealbreaker. Like, <em>fuck</em>, we have been through so much awful, awful shit. But so much beautiful shit too. And I regret decisions I've made because I'm a human and that's what we do. It's just that the decision <em>we</em> had to make was so, so <em>so</em> much fucking harder than the ones most people worry about. So I'm torn up about it. But I will never, <em>ever</em> regret getting to spend more time with you. Does that make sense?" </p><p>"Yeah," she croaks. "It really does." </p><p>of course she understands </p><p>you're blood brothers, now </p><p>more than ever before </p><p>She makes a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh, and as you look down and see the curve of her smile you're so damn relieved its the latter. </p><p>"You.. you have such a way with words. You should write poetry." </p><p>You roll your eyes, but you're smiling too.</p><p>"No fucking way. You are <em>not</em> converting me into a hipster." </p><p>You snort, and she's still sniffling but now she's giggling too. God, you love her. </p><p>Max presses her nose against her collarbone. The coolness of her tears is jarring, but you don't mind. In a strange sense, you appreciate them. Seeing her in pain fucking tears you apart - but, at the same time, you're glad she doesn't bottle her feelings up. Max is crying through it, and you.. </p><p>.. need to stop with the alcohol before it catches up with you. </p><p>You lie back down, with Max still on your chest. You hug her like you're about to die. You can't remember a time when it didn't always feel like the world was about to end. </p><p>You don't have the emotional bandwidth to dwell on this shit more - for now at least - and so your eyes get lost in the dingy ceiling. </p><p>You'll probably need to talk to her about this again later. Still, you have all the time in the fucking world. </p><p>and these emotions aren't going to stay buried </p><p>But for now, she's quiet. You can't tell if she's asleep or not, but Max's body is relaxed and her breathing is normal and you feel (relatively) at peace again. Back to being trapped alone with your thoughts, but still. </p><p>You can handle them. Her mere presence gives you strength. </p><p>She can't solve all your problems, and you would rebuke her if she even <em>tried. </em></p><p>she doesn't anymore, but if she <em>did</em>-</p><p>she wouldn't be able to fix you. and that's fine. </p><p>You're fucked up, but you're sure life has nothing left to throw at you. And you're sure you have plenty of decades left to experience stuff you haven't yet. Good stuff. </p><p>Your life has been punctuated by so, <em>so</em> much horror in 19 years. But you're <em>alive</em>, and you absolutely fucking refuse to quit while the horror is on top. </p><p>Every single day you live through is another middle finger at the world, or fate, or what-the-fuck-ever. And that's a sentiment you can get behind. </p><p>It's all uphill from here. It <em>has</em> to be. </p><p>You cling to eachother, and that's enough. </p><hr/><p>The morning light is creeping through the broken RV blinds, and you realize the uneven light pattern would make for a neat photo. You'll have to get Max on a normal sleeping schedule to capture it, though - she's barely up for golden hour anymore. You figure she's probably going to stir soon, but fuck it. You're going to enjoy this moment while it lasts. </p><p>It's almost funny how much of your internal musing takes place while staring at the back of Max's head. You wonder if this is a normal couple thing. Probably not. Whatever.</p><p>The thought of having a normal life is impossible for you to comprehend. </p><p>you're just</p><p>here </p><p>with max </p><p>Just as hurt as ever</p><p>but with an actual sense of purpose </p><p>october actually <em>broke </em>you out of your apathy, but you're fucking terrified it'll have the opposite effect on max </p><p>you don't know what you would do if she stopped seeing the joy in life </p><p>that thought is honestly too crushing to even worry about. </p><p>she <em>won't</em> </p><p>you, though</p><p>you're almost 20 and you can't fucking believe you made it this far but </p><p>for the first time you're kind of glad that you did</p><p>kind of. </p><p>you wonder if max likes to draw you with butterflies for more reasons than the most obvious </p><p>the whole narrative of dramatic change is something she would <em>definitely</em> pick up on. </p><p>you don't feel like a butterfly, but </p><p>you're definitely different. </p><p>Your fear of abandonment hasn't gone away, but you're surprised at how much tamer it's gotten. Viewing your fears as irrational products of your depression-brain is a lot easier when the main person in your life literally chose you-of-all-fucking-people over almost everyone else she's ever known. </p><p>You're so damn thankful for the relief, because you could not want spiraling Chloe around less right now - less for your own happiness than for your ability to be there for Max. She has the right to throw tantrums for the rest of her fucking life and yet she doesn't because she's fucking perfect and </p><p>and she's just a person. </p><p>an exceptionally kind and mature person, but still just a person. </p><p>You still idolize her to some degree - but you're working on it. Separating your envy from your love won't happen overnight. </p><p>But, still. Working on it. </p><p>You are painfully reminded of her vulnerability every single day when you help her come down from night terrors and hold her through anxiety attacks and talk her through her paralyzing doubts. </p><p>Her taking on the role of a god - and you facilitating it - is the main reason she's not okay. </p><p>It wounds you so fucking badly when she <em>pauses</em> and gets lost in her mind and you can see the unspeakable anguish on her face and you can't do a single thing about it besides hold her but </p><p>but</p><p>you keep it together, because being held by someone who's at least <em>projecting</em> an air of calm is still something </p><p>you would know</p><p>It's moments like these, with her in your arms - melancholic, but safe - that you understand why you were willing to let your mom die.</p><p>Another loss wasn't going to break you. You're used to it. But your absence would have killed both of them, and.. when faced with the choice between the two, you chose your girlfriend. </p><p>You know that makes you fucked up, and even having to consider the positives-negatives-whatever of letting either woman live makes you feel fucking nauseous, but. It's like you tell Max - there was never going to be a good option. It's all trolley problem bullshit. At least.. fuck, it hurts for you to even <em>think</em>, but still.. at least Joyce got to spend a good chunk of her life happy and fulfilled. </p><p>Max deserves that opportunity too. </p><p>Your brain still screams at you that it's all just a shallow rationalization and you're really just a self interested psychopath who kept around the person you <em>wanted</em> more, but you're so fucking tired of stewing in that horrible indecision over and over and <em>fucking</em> over again. </p><p>You made your choice, and she did too, and you're determined to live with it. </p><p>Living is a gift unto itself. </p><p>Maybe you're a bad person. Maybe whatever mystical, magical power rules the universe shouldn't have put the lives of so many people in the hands of two scared teenagers. </p><p>you are so tired of thinking</p><p>you made your choice, however valid, and can't take it back </p><p>it feels crass to call your very real trauma 'spilled milk,' but at the same time, it's a sentiment that really resonates with you</p><p>you don't want to deliberate anymore, you just want your mind to be empty of anything but her and the hobbies you've managed to hold onto and you just want to kiss her head and forget about everything else </p><p>you know this is a mental battle you'll probably fight over and over again every single day for the rest of your life, but you're so fucking tired and you just want to <em>live</em> and so </p><p>you kiss her head anyway</p><p>she makes a content noise and snuggles closer against you and you really, really feel like <em>living</em> is something the two of you can get good at again</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i have awoken from my slumber and the vibes are as bad as ever </p><p>okay but silliness aside it genuinely feels wonderful getting back into the groove of posting on here. covid just kinda walloped my creative drive into oblivion so here's hoping it stays</p><p>srsly tho i would do literally anything for these girls; feel like pure shit, just want them to be happy</p><p>ALSO ALSO this is honestly my fave thing i've posted on here and i'm v proud of it even if it's another anemic banger (perhaps one day i'll write things with an actual hefty wordcount WHO KNOWS)</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>